


Invulnerable

by AmateurConsultingDetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Best Friends, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:24:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurConsultingDetective/pseuds/AmateurConsultingDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knew Sherlock claimed to be invincible, he just never thought he would see the detective</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invulnerable

They were sitting in Angelo’s, completely oblivious to the maelstrom that would soon engulf them. Having solved the case of the impending terrorist attack on London, as well as reaching closure for their emotions following his return, Sherlock and John were unwinding with some pasta.

“Admit it. You’ve missed this.” Sherlock smirked as he swallowed a forkful of spaghetti.

“I don’t miss my life being threatened on a daily basis-” John retorted with a glare, before grinning at Sherlock. “I did however miss the thrill of the chase.”

“I knew I could get you to-“

“Excuse me?”

A voice interrupted Sherlock, causing both men to turn and look at the source. A woman dressed in a smart pantsuit stood next to their table holding a recorder in her hand.

“I’m with the London Evening Standard and I was just wondering if I could get a statement from you on your recently solved case. Is this what caused you to come out of hiding? How long did you plan on playing dead for?”

“If you’d like to hear a fantastic answer wait until John updates his blog.” Sherlock delivered in a clipped tone. He stood from the table and left the restaurant, leaving John to follow in his wake.

John didn’t have to walk far to catch up with Sherlock. Once outside the restaurant he found the detective being harried by more reporters.

“Mr. Holmes! The people would like to know how you faked your death!”

“The Telegraph was looking to get an interview to discuss the intimate details of your time in hiding!”

“Sherlock, can you give us a reason as to why you had to fake your death?”

“Why did it take you so long to come back? Did something happen to prolong your return?”

John waited for the detective to start dealing out responses dripping in sarcasm. _Oh god, here we go_. What he didn’t expect was to see Sherlock standing stock still, and was further surprised when the detective forcibly pushed his way through the crowd and broke into a run.

“Okay, show’s over folks. Get the bloody hell out of my way.” John snarled before pushing through the reporters. John walked a couple of meters before breaking out into a run, heading in the direction he saw Sherlock travel. He continued down the street, looking every which way for a clue as to where the detective had gone. John realized that he was closer to Baker Street now. _Maybe he went back to the flat. I’ll check there before calling Lestrade to help me search for him._

With a plan in mind, John continued heading towards 221B while keeping a weather eye and ear out for any sign of the detective as he travelled. He arrived at the door of 221B Baker Street without so much as an inclination as to where Sherlock may have gone. He entered and ascended the stairs, ears strained for any sign of life. He softly pushed open the door to the flat, noticing the darkened interior, only illuminated by the light pollution from outside, before he heard the labored breathing.

He walked towards the living room, eyes finally settling on Sherlock.

“Sherlock, are you okay?” John asked as he approached the detective.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, hands clutching his curls, his breathing bordering on hyperventilation.

“John- I think I’ve been poisoned. Someone must have put something in my pasta, a cook being paid off by Moran. Or, maybe some low-level criminal trying to do me in.” Sherlock was babbling, furiously clutching at his hair, breathing growing more rapid by the second. Suddenly Sherlock looked up, staring John in the eye for a moment before lunging across the room and pinning the army man to the wall.

“John if they poisoned me then you have been compromised as well. How are you feeling? I shouldn’t have offered to go to Angelo’s. It was too soon to eat out in public. How are you feeling? How are you feeling? How-“

“Sherlock calm down. I swear, I feel fine.” John insisted as he tried to pry the detective off of his jumper. It took little effort as Sherlock pulled away quickly, choosing to pace around the room.

“It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make any sense. There’s no other way. _There’s no other way_!” Sherlock shouted while punching the wall.

John flinched before moving cautiously towards Sherlock. He made to put a hand on the detective’s shoulder, but Sherlock whipped around throwing John to the ground and pinning him there with the aforementioned arm.

“You feel fine. You suffer none of the symptoms I am experiencing, which leads to only one conclusion. _You_ did this to me.” Sherlock hissed on John’s ear. “You _poisoned_ me. You _drugged_ me. You didn’t want me back, not when you finally had your life pieced back together.”

John struggled against the detective physically, while he mentally fought to figure out what was happening.

“Sherlock when would I have possible drugged you? I’ve been with you and in your sight for hours! Even if I had wanted to, when was there a moment for me to do so without your notice?” John probed the detective, giving him something to think about while he surveyed Sherlock’s disposition. _Racing pulse, trouble breathing, paranoia…_

“I don’t know John; perhaps you had someone do the dirty work for you.” Sherlock’s words dripped with venom. “A good doctor has to keep his hands clean. Maybe you had a cook or our server slip something into my food. Maybe you pricked me with something while that idiotic reporter was berating me-“

Sherlock stopped talking as John felt the final puzzle piece fall into place. The detective clambered off the doctor and sank to the ground, head in his hands.

“John,” Sherlock began in a small voice. “You must forgive me for assuming the worst of you. I know you are nothing but noble in your actions, so please excuse my momentary lapse in judgment.”

John began to rise into a sitting position while Sherlock continued speaking.

“I know life has been very… _trying_ for you since my return, but please forgive me of this atrocious behavior, and don’t leave”. Sherlock’s’ speech was nearing hysterical again. “Please John; I’m begging you to please not leave. I’ll do anything, just please _please please don’t_ -“

The detective’s mantra was cut short as John enveloped him in a fierce hug.

“Of course I’m not going to leave you, you idiot.” John said louder than he meant to as he held Sherlock’s frame against his chest, the detective’s head resting on the doctor’s shoulder. “Sherlock, I’ve already told you that I’m not good at this sort of stuff; I’m a right mess at talking about feelings, but look me in the eye right now while I tell you this.”

Sherlock wearily raised his head off John’s shoulder and looked at John from underneath his curls.

“Sherlock, you’re my best friend. The best friend I’ve ever had, and I want you to know that I’m here for you to talk to when you are feeling like this and I would genuinely like to hear about it. You don’t have to worry about overwhelming me, and I don’t want you to think it’s boring, or unimportant.” John pulled the detective back into a hug, resting his head atop the younger man’s. “It took me a long time to readjust to civilian life, and despite what you may think, you helped me more than you could believe. Let me help you now. Let out whatever it is you’re feeling”.

Before Sherlock could stop it, he was crying into John’s shoulder, clinging to the doctor like he was a lifeline. As John held Sherlock he remembered a proverb he had heard back during his service days: When you can’t walk, you crawl, and when you can’t crawl, you find someone to carry you. While they couldn’t carry each other at the same time, each could support the other during this struggle. As far as John was concerned, that was just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first experience writing a story based around Sherlock, and my first work published on this website. It was un-beta'd, so any critiques are greatly appreciated.
> 
> I can also be found on Tumblr at: amateur-consulting-detective.tumblr.com


End file.
